


In the Forest of the Night

by tigerlady (shetiger)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-17
Updated: 2010-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shetiger/pseuds/tigerlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Some things sear too deep to ever fade away.</i>  After the events of The Big Game/Revelations, JJ takes longer to heal than even she realizes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Forest of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt of 'JJ/Reid, do not thank me, this is not a favor'. Thank you to smittywing for audiencing.

_Muzzle flash._

She knows the definition of the term, has recited it on more than one exam: _the visible portion of the muzzle blast, the release of hot, pressurized gases from the barrel when a gun is discharged_. JJ knows this; she knows that the size and shape of the muzzle flash varies with the ammo and gun.

She knows that there must have been three strobes of white lightning that night, blinding bright and deadly accurate.

But the images that come to mind when she hears those words aren't so cleanly elemental. No, they're much more visceral, full of black snarling lips and sharp enamel stained red from blood and flesh, erupting out of the dark as fast as her finger on her gun.

Once she finally holds Spencer in her arms, once she feels him trembling with life, she thinks maybe--maybe--the past will stay in the past. It's only later, while she watches his hair grow longer and his hands occasionally shake, while she watches the shadows deepen under his eyes more every day, that it truly hits her.

Some things sear too deep to ever fade away.

*****

 _I guess you've got to move on._ Her words linger in her mind as she walks away, as does the crisp paper feel of her business card leaving her hand and slipping into Will's. She's not sure why she gave it to him. She's not looking for any kind of relationship--especially not a long-distance one, and she knows he's not going to take the gesture as anything less than an offer. But he's a nice guy, pretty cute, and... _I guess you've got to move on._

She wishes it doesn't sound so hypocritical to her own ears.

Spencer is in 310. The weak yellow puddles of light from the low-watt bulbs barely fill the sconces in the hall. Better to hide the stained carpet, she supposes, but the murkiness makes her approach feel clandestine, when all she wants to do is talk. She hadn't been so bedazzled by William's honey-drawled courtship that she didn't notice the tension thrumming through the team over the last two days. Emily looked liked she'd swallowed her tongue every time she glanced at Spencer or Gideon, and Morgan never lost that big-brother frown in his eyes.

And oh, yeah, Spencer blew off an important interview to hang out with a friend.

She knocks softly, one-two-three like she always does on a door of a person of interest, but she doesn't pull her hand away after the final knock. She spreads her fingers instead, letting her palm rest on the cool surface, appreciating the way the day's heat is leached away. Thirty seconds pass, and she raps again, louder and faster this time.

JJ isn't sure if he's out or ignoring her, but either way, Spencer never comes to the door.

*****

"You want to talk about it?" Will's voice is as soft as his touch, slow and mellow and sounding so understanding that she wants to spill it out. Wants to tell him how she calmly slid between the cops at the scene so she could photograph Gideon's bedroom. How she made sure to capture all the details carved into Sarah's body, made sure to photograph the blood Rorshached over the bright yellow comforter on his bed.

But sounding like he understands isn't the same as actually having that knowledge. The case that rose up out of his father's grave and dogged Will's steps was an aberration. For JJ, this is just another day.

"I'm fine," she tells him, and rolls over, back into his arms, determined to enjoy the short time they have together.

No matter what images are still seared in her mind.

*****

He charged in to save her from spit.

He charged in to save her from the spit of a young woman, hurting and angry because of _JJ's_ mistake. Another mistake, only instead of leaving Spencer in the hands of a torturer, this one led to a young woman's death.

It's ironic, then, that this moment is the one that--not replaces, no, she can't forget that ever--finally takes precedence in her mind. Instead of Spencer barely standing, broken and shaky and so very pale, she sees him charging in, angry and protective and strong. He's not the same man that he was six months ago. There's still something curled around his soul, a darkness he can't quite shake, but he's starting to find the light again.

He's beautiful, really, when that light manages to burst forth.

*****

"I wish you would let me come see you more often," Will croons into the phone. "If it's the money, you don't have to be feeling guilty about that. My daddy left me enough, and I've got nobody better to spend it on than you."

Her heart skips a little, even as her eyes start rolling without conscious volition. He always manages to hit that combination with her; just a little too smarmy to be real, but still sincere enough that she can't help but adore him. She's not sure if she wants to know what that says about her.

"It's not that," she finally tells him. "It's the job. I never know when I'm going to get called away, and I don't want you to waste the trip."

He accepts the excuse. For now.

*****

There's no muzzle flash this time.

Not that she sees. Not that she remembers. There's the seal of the FBI and one murdering asshole on the other side. Time doesn't slow. JJ steps up, aims, and pulls the trigger. Glass explodes and the man who tried to kill Penelope is dead.

Not much to it at all.

She tells Penelope that she did what she had to do to protect her family. That's true. For long minutes all she feels is slightly chilled relief. She did what she had to do. Her family is safe.

When the ME's office comes to collect the body, she starts to shake. It's not a big deal. Just the adrenaline leaving her body. Nothing she can't handle--but Hotch notices.

Spencer is the one to drive her home. He follows her inside without asking, and she can't bring herself to tell him to go. She drops her purse on the dining room table without putting her cell phone on the charger, and she kicks off her shoes in the kitchen. She thinks about opening a bottle of wine, maybe the red Will bought the last time he was in town, but she's tired enough already, and the thought of alcohol fueling her dreams is enough to get her to pull out a pair of chilled water bottles instead.

"You know, bottled water has been found to be less pure than that from the tap in most cities in the U.S.," he says when she holds one out to him. "In fact, studies have shown that the environmental impact--"

"Spence," she says, too tired to guard her tongue from informalities. "Are you really trying to make me feel guilty about my shopping habits? _Tonight?_ "

"Oh." He stops, eyes darting from side to side before he looks at her again. He smiles sheepishly and takes the bottle. "Sorry."

JJ laughs. "It's okay," she says dryly. She sinks down on the couch, letting the bottle dangle between her fingers. She should open it and take a drink, but that involves too much effort at the moment. "I'm okay, really. You don't have to stick around. I'll be fine."

"I know you will." He sets his water on the coffee table before he sits down next to her and reaches for her own. He twists off the cap with a quick motion and passes it back. "That doesn't mean it's not nice to have somebody around who understands."

"You do, don't you," she murmurs. She takes a sip of water that turns into a long, bottle-punishing gulp, then sets the half empty container back onto the table. She wipes the clinging drops away from the corners of her mouth with a few careful strokes of her thumb--and out of the corner of her eye, she catches him watching.

He's watching her lips.

Need washes over her with a double-bass kick, her heart thudding so strong with it that she presses her hand to her chest for a second. Spencer leans forward, concern in his eyes.

She kisses him.

It's done before she even thinks about it. She licks her lips as she watches him slowly open his eyes. His pupils are black from just one kiss, so before she can think better of it she kisses him again. He opens to her, mouth responsive to every move she makes, but he doesn't reach for her. JJ's not sure if it's because he's not very experienced or because he doesn't really want this. She pulls back, knowing she should tell him it's okay, she's sorry for making things awkward, any number of lines.

Instead, she whispers, " _Please._ "

He moves, then, bringing his hand up to her cheek to guide her into a deeper kiss. She doesn't know that it's as extraordinary as it feels, because right now she just wants him so damn much. After they part, they rest cheek to cheek, his breath loud in her ear. JJ doesn't even realize she's murmuring to him until he pulls back to look her in the eyes.

"Don't thank me," he says, brow furrowed. "This isn't some kind of favor."

JJ hides her blush by kissing him again. He'd been holding back before; she can tell now, by the little gasps he makes into her mouth and the way his hands have found her back like he plans on keeping her close. She groans when he moves to her neck, and returns the favor wildly, her soft kisses turning into bites that have him clutching at her. They're in such an awkward position, still mostly seated, knees in the way, so JJ solves the problem by standing up.

"What--" He stops with his mouth still open. JJ smiles; apparently the easiest way to shut Spencer Reid up is to unbutton her shirt in front of him. She kicks off her shoes, undoes her pants and slides them off.

"Take off your shirt," she says, and he obeys as if it were an order. His chest is smooth and pale, lightly muscled. She keeps her gaze above his elbows as she coaxes him to stand so she can unbuckle his belt. She's barely got his pants unbuttoned before they're sliding over his narrow hips, and a sharp tug sends them all the way down to the floor.

She looks down, then, at his colorful boxers straining to hold back his erection. _Monkeys_ , she thinks distractedly, there are monkeys all over the boxers she pulls down. His cock is long like he is, twitching with readiness. JJ strokes it a few times, getting used to the feel of it before she urges Spencer back down to the couch. Down on his back, head propped against the pillowed arm rest.

JJ reaches behind herself to undo her bra, letting it slide off her arms before she takes off her panties. His eyes are on her, always. She strokes her clit, watching him watching her, until she's almost at the edge. Then she straddles his legs, her knee slipping down into the crack between the cushions and the back of the couch, takes hold of his cock, and slides down on him.

"Oh, god, oh, god," Spence babbles. His eyes are saucer-huge and he's clutching at her arms. She breaks his grasp gently and pushes his hands down to her hips, encouraging him to assist in her rise and fall. Her body is one taut wire, vibrating with every stroke. The rest of the adrenaline, she guesses, because she's never this keyed up. She never comes very fast from intercourse, but the orgasm's there, taking her by surprise, making her shudder so hard she's afraid this is what's going to make her finally break apart.

"JJ." He's staring at her with awe and need both. Her whole body feels like lead, now, but she starts moving again. He feels huge within her now, still good but almost too much. Every time she raises up it sends a pinched-skin tickle up her spine, like her body isn't sure whether it wants another orgasm or a good cry. He's not going to last long, though, so she keeps going, moving faster and faster until his hands clamp down on her hips, holding her in place.

When he comes, his face screws tight like he's in pain, his mouth opens in a silent scream, and JJ has to look away. She drops down on top of his chest and presses her face into his neck, breathing in the smell of him, warm and so alive. She stays there, holding onto him, until his whole body relaxes and his breathing starts to even out. Then she eases off of him, grimacing a little at the mess. She stretches precariously over the edge of the couch until she finds her panties. It's not a perfect solution, but the cotton takes care of the worst of it. She'll get out the cleaning supplies later, but right now she barely has enough energy to make sure she doesn't knee him in the groin as she squeezes herself along his side.

His arm comes up to cradle her shoulders. They lay like that for a while, until JJ's so relaxed she's not sure if she's awake or dreaming.

"I should go," he finally says.

"You can stay if you want to," she mumbles. "I promise, my bed is a lot more comfortable than the couch."

"JJ..." Spencer sits up, pushing away from her so that they're face-to-face. She blinks away the stickiness in her sleepy eyes enough to focus on what he's saying. "Do you really want _this_?" He waves his hand between their naked chests, but she's pretty sure he's not referring to sex. "Morgan thinks I don't know anything about women, but I'm very good at profiling, and it's not hard to tell that this was a, a momentary aberration on your part. A one-night stand."

"No," she says, shifting her weight so that she's a little more upright. "I wasn't... It was about you, not just any convenient body."

He smiles. He's so bright in that moment, so shining with light she almost can't bear to look at him. "Yeah, I know." He picks his boxers up off the floor and guides them over his feet. "I get it, JJ. It's okay."

She wants to tell him that he doesn't get it at all, that it's not about _that_. She tries to figure out exactly what to say the entire time he's getting dressed. When he gives the last loop of his shoe strings a final tug, the words still aren't there.

He straightens, then hesitates, biting his lip, right where she'd bit it minutes ago. He pulls the afghan off the back of the couch, unfolds it, and drapes it over her. Her throat fills up when he kisses her on the forehead.

"We're okay, right?" she asks.

"Yeah," he says, smiling again. "We're both going to be just fine."

*****

She calls the very next day.

"Hey," she says, and then rushes on before he can interrupt. "I've got some time off for a while. I can't go anywhere, so, I can't come to you, but on the other hand, I can't go anywhere."

"JJ," Will asks, "is something wrong?"

"It's complicated." She doesn't want to talk about it over the phone, but she has a feeling she'll tell him everything when he gets here, all the messy bits that she's been afraid to before. It's a good feeling. She takes a deep breath, and smiles into the mouthpiece. "But I'm fine."


End file.
